


Going Home

by imagineteamfreewill



Series: Making Promises [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas saves the day, Dean Winchester is Reader's Parent, Other, the reader almost dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineteamfreewill/pseuds/imagineteamfreewill
Summary: The reader gets herself in a sticky situation.





	Going Home

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my tumblr account of the same name on December 27th, 2014 and edited on September 29th, 2018.

You whirled around, slashing your knife and ganking the vampire who was trying to sneak up on you. Grunting, you got his friend, too. If you had known that this was a nest rather than just a few rogue vamps, you wouldn’t have come without backup. Your father may not have wanted you to hunt, but he didn’t leave you uniformed either.  _‘Never go on a hunt without backup,’_  he’d always said. Now, you wished you had listened to that piece of advice.

Two more vamps advanced on you, and it was then that you realized you couldn’t beat them all. You turned to run, your machete gripped tightly in your hand.

You were surrounded. Cursing under your breath, you glanced at the vampires that were gathered around you. They bared their teeth, some laughing and some getting ready to attack. There was no chance of you surviving this and you swallowed thickly. As many hunts as you had been on, nothing could prepare you for what it felt like in the moments before death.

Regret, shame, sadness, and nostalgia. You regretted not saying goodbye to your father, or your uncle, or even Cas; the thought of them finding out you were dead made you nauseous, or maybe that was the thick smell of blood that hung in the air.

 _I might as well die happy,_ you thought, trying to push away the sad thoughts and replace them with your memories of all the times Cas had done sweet things for you and the time before your fight with Dean. The monsters began to advance on you, and right before they were within spitting distance, there was a sound like ruffled feathers and Cas appeared.

“Y/N, I—”

His sentence was cut off by a grunt and a bright flash of light. You turned, terrified that something had happened to him, and relief flooded you when you saw Cas kneeling, his hands on the foreheads of two prone vamps.

The others hissed and backed away. One of the less intelligent ones, however, rushed towards you, seeing it as an opportunity to get to you before its brothers did. Cas swiftly smote him as well. The remaining monsters ran, attempting to leave the area after seeing what Castiel could do.

Once they’d all disappeared, Cas reached out a hand and helped you to your feet. You frowned. You didn’t remember sitting down.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gruff. You nodded, silent. “I heard your thoughts about me and came. Y/N, what are you doing? You could have died.”

In response, you only shrugged. A slow trickle of blood made its way down the side of your forehead. That sensation wasn’t foreign to you, but Cas’ hands on your arms were. It had been too long since someone that cared about you had held you.

“I’m taking you home.”

Fervently, you shook your head. “It’s been a year, Cas. I’m not going home. Dean said it himself. If I hunted again I wouldn’t be his daughter anymore.” Cas opened his mouth to speak but you interrupted, shaking your head and repeating, “I’m not going home.”

You wished more than anything that you could tell Cas the truth—that you really wanted to go home, and it had been weeks since you’d had a decent night’s sleep. Every night you laid awake for hours before crying yourself to sleep, wondering if Dean even missed you.

Cas didn’t release your arms, and after a minute you pulled yourself free from his grip, turning to run. You sprinted out of the warehouse without another word, and you were almost to your car when a wave of dizziness hit you. You froze, closing your eyes and trying to fight against it.

A flutter of wings came from behind you. The feeling of Cas’ hand on your shoulder helped to anchor you against the dizziness, and you were grateful for that, despite the fact that you’d been running from him only moments before.

“Y/N, I can’t allow you to leave. I am taking you home to your father, and—”

For the second time that night, he was cut off. Your legs collapsed beneath you as adrenaline and your head injury caught up with you, your eyes rolling back into your head as you lost consciousness.

Cas caught you in his arms, stopping you from hitting the snow-covered pavement. “We’re going home,” he murmured, keenly aware his words brought hope to your aching heart. He adjusted his grip on you, then began the short trek to your car, where he carefully laid you out in the backseat. After pressing two fingers to your forehead to heal the developing concussion, Cas shed his jacket and draped it over you before climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the key that you’d left in the ignition.

The radio blared as soon as the engine roared to life, and Cas quickly reached out, turning the dial until the music coming through the speakers was barely audible. He glanced at you in the rearview mirror, letting out a small, relieved sigh when he saw that you were still asleep.

It would be a long drive home if he wanted to make sure that you arrived with all your belongings, and he could only hope that you would stay asleep for all of it. He didn’t want to argue with you, not when he was just trying to make both you and Dean happy again.

* * *

You opened your eyes slowly, waiting for them to adjust to the light as you tried to process where you were. The last thing you remembered was being in the warehouse with Cas, but the smooth, concrete ceiling above you wasn’t even vaguely reminiscent of the dusty metal building.

“Cas?” you mumbled, pushing yourself up a little on the mattress.

A hand grabbed yours to stop you, and you looked over to see Castiel sitting in a chair beside your bed. You stared at him for a long second, still processing how you’d gotten out of the warehouse, before realizing that while you were in bed, you weren’t in the bed in your apartment. You sat up quickly, blackness edging in on your vision and dizziness hitting you like a brick wall.

Cas reached out with one hand and steadied you. “Slow down, Y/N. You’re were injured. I healed you, but you need to move slowly,” he murmured. “You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”

The blackness and the dizziness subsided after a moment and you blinked, confused. “Injured?”

He nodded and you took another slow look around the room. After a second, you noticed that the room you were in looked much too familiar to be a motel, and when you noticed the picture of you and Dean sitting on a nearby dresser, you clenched your teeth and turned back to glare at Cas.

“Castiel, I swear once I’m better I’m going to fry you in holy oil till your wings are deep-fried,” you growled. Castiel didn’t react; he just watched you silently from his seat. “Why the hell did you bring me back to the bunker? I told you that I wasn’t ever coming back here.”

“Because it’s Christmas, and your father misses you,” he replied.

You snorted. “Yeah. Right. I’m outta here.” Slowly, you stood up from the bed and walked over to the door, tugging it open. On the other side of it stood Dean, his fist up as if he were going to knock on the door. He saw you and lowered his hand to his side. You watched him carefully, gauging his reaction.

“I— I thought I heard Cas talking in here. He’s—” Dean finally saw Cas when he stood up behind you. “You’ve been gone for weeks now, man.”

When Cas didn’t reply except to send a nod in your direction, Dean was at a loss for words. Emotions flashed in his eyes like a whirlwind, moving from frustration and confusion, to happiness and joy, to anger, and back to confusion again. You watched him cautiously, unsure if you should try and slip out of the room while he was trying to process the both of you being back or if you should just muscle your way through.

“If you’re going to yell at me, save it. I was just on my way out,” you finally told him, feeling small as you looked up to meet your father’s eyes.

He squinted down at you, not realizing the effect he had on you. Not only was he a lot bigger, but he was older, and stronger, and  _much_  louder. He could win any argument, you knew, especially if it was against you. You knew you shouldn’t be afraid to face your own father, but knowing what he was capable of, you were.

“I’m not going to— Why would I yell at you, Y/N?” Dean asked, frowning slightly.

Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Because I’ve been hunting.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “For a year now,” you added.

Dean ran his hand over his face, the gesture letting his exhaustion and experience show for a split-second, then shook his head. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then closed it and walked out without another word.

You turned back to Cas, even more hurt and confused than before. “Why didn’t he yell at me?” He didn’t respond for a moment and you began to repeat yourself, only to have Cas interrupt you.

“It’s been a rough year for Dean. He thought you were gone for good. He’s been reckless on hunts and drinking too much, and he’s spent way too much time trying to pick fights at bars. It hasn’t been good for anyone.”

 _He knows better than to be reckless,_  you thought,  _and he hasn’t tried to pick a bar fight in years._

Cas snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Y/N,” he said. You looked up at him, your heart suddenly heavy with the knowledge of what you’d done to your father. “You should go out there and talk to him.”

You stared at him, the sighed and started to go out towards the library, where your father was sure to be. The sound of rustling feathers came from behind you and you couldn’t help but feel a little abandoned now that Cas was gone. He was supposed to be on your side.

“Dean?” you called as you neared the room. There was no response. Peeking into the doorway before you walked inside, you saw him sitting at one of the long wooden tables, a half-full tumbler of whiskey in front of him. “Dean?” you repeated.

He didn’t react. Hesitant, you left the safety of the hallway and headed over to him. As you got closer you could see that the glass hadn’t been touched, as if he had poured it but didn’t really want to drink it. You touched his shoulder and he slowly lifted his head to meet your eyes.

“You’ve been gone for a year,” he stated. You nodded, quiet. “And you hunted that entire time?” Again, you nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything. “But you’re back now. Are you going to stay?”

Hesitantly, you shook your head. It may be Christmas, but you couldn’t stay. Dean didn’t want you here, and you were certain his brother would back him up. Your father stood up, and once again you felt small. To your surprise, he did the opposite of what you thought he would. Instead of yelling at you, telling you to go to your room like a child, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. One hand cupped the back of your hand and the other was wrapped around you, as if he was trying to hold you as close as he could.

“Aren’t you mad?” you murmured into his shoulder after a second.

Dean leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “My daughter is safe, and she’s home. How could I be mad?”

You pulled away, confused and shocked that he was acting as if nothing was wrong with what you’d done. “I’ve been hunting, which is exactly what you didn’t want me to do! You should be furious!”

 _If I did exactly what he told me not to do,_  you thought,  _shouldn’t he be mad?_

“I’m not mad, Y/N, because you’re safe. I don’t want you hunting, but you’re just like your mom, kid. I couldn’t change her mind on anything, no matter how stupid her decision was.” The thought of your mother made you smile. It had been so long since you had heard her spoken about, let alone heard her name.

“It’s Christmas. Let’s celebrate today, even if you leave tomorrow,” Dean said. “I want you to know that you can always come home, no matter what you’ve been doing when you’re gone.”

You nodded slightly, starting to smile a little more. Dean caught your eye, a smile of his own on his face, and you couldn’t help but step forward into another hug.

“Thanks, Dad.”


End file.
